I'm Sorry
by zen.silver
Summary: Tris is in coma with a four percent chance of living. Tobias can't cope. Will she survive, or will Tobias have to live with guilt for the rest of his life? R&R. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

"Where's Tris?" I ask Cara. Her face pales and her lower lip trembles slightly. Her hair is disheveled; her glasses are askew. She doesn't look anything like the strong, smart Erudite I know.

"Cara, are you okay?" Christina asks, slowly, as if doubting her own words. She frowns, and I see her Candor kick in as she tries to figure out what bothers Cara.

"I… I'm so sorry, Four," she mumbles, looking down, her eyes shifting as if she can't focus on anything in particular.

My instincts kick in, and I narrow my eyes. Something tells me Tris is the problem. Tris is hurt.

"What do you mean?" I ask, stepping closer to Cara. Christina, behind me, frowns as if she's tasted something terribly sour.

Cara just shakes her head. I can't take it anymore; I grab her shoulders and shake her, not roughly, but enough to elicit an answer. "What happened, Cara?" I ask quietly, half-growling.

"Tris… went into the Weapons Lab," Cara says tearfully, looking away from me.

Why would she go into the Weapons Lab? Why? Caleb was supposed to. This isn't right. Why would she?

But then it hits me. Of _course_ she would go in instead of Caleb. I remember dimly what she said to Caleb, so long ago it feels like years: _I would never deliver you to your own execution. _And she didn't.

I look at Cara. "And…?" I choke out.

"She survived the Death Serum, Four." Cara looks me in the eye. "She got by."

I drop my hands, stunned. She _survived_ the Death Serum? I mean, I know that Tris is Divergent and could survive most serums, but I know for a fact that even Divergents cannot survive Death Serum. _How_ did she do it? "Where is she, then?" I ask, hope leaking back into my heart.

Cara averts her eyes again. "She… she was shot. Multiple times. I… I'm so sorry, Four. I know you loved her."

I feel my knees give away, and suddenly, I'm on the ground. "I… What? She's gone?"

Cara shakes her head, and for a split second I'm gaining hope again, but then I suppress it because I don't know what she's going to say. "Tris is in intensive care, Four. She has a four percent chance of surviving. There's minimal brain damage, but she sustains serious damage to her stomach and lungs. The Death Serum didn't kill her, but she breathed a lot of it in, so they suspect that tumors may be forming in her lungs. She was shot in the stomach.

"And… well, the doctors will probably just want you to let go right now, Four. We'll tell you if there are any improvements, Four. I… I'm sorry." She stands there, searching for some sort of emotion in my eyes, but I am empty. Completely, utterly, empty without my Tris. When she sees nothing, she turns away and runs.

It takes a minute for everything to sink in, and then I am helpless anyway.

But then I realize that maybe Cara is pulling some kind of cruel prank on me. Tris is in there, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, and when I enter the compound she will run to me, fling her narrow body on mine, and I will kiss her the way we always kiss.

I look at Christina for clarification. She's Candor, she can tell whether it's a prank or not. I stand up, a little shaky on my legs, and turn to her. But she is sobbing loudly, crumpled on the ground.

No. No. No. NO!

I suddenly feel like I am floating; this can't be true. It can't. It cannot.

I look around: I see the sky, the building, the grass, I stare at the truck. Anything to distract me from the pain looming above me.

Zeke is coming out and walking towards me, saying something, but I don't care. I can't even hear him. I can't hear or see anything.

Empty.

But then it hits me, over and over, as if I am being hit by a truck in the chest: over and over and over. It feels like I've been shot in the chest. I groan, clutching my heart, and double over.

I've never cried like this before.

I am not supposed to visit her. She is under special care, they all say: no one can meet her right now.

But I have to, I just have to. I can't go without.

So I wait until it is night. I have to wait until Cara and Christina doze off; they have been watching me all day. They probably think I'm going mad. All I've done all day is stare at the wall and mumble Tris' name over and over. Maybe I am going mad. It'll be a welcome change, and perhaps it'll be easy to live without Tris if I am out of my mind.

No. Tris isn't going to die; I just need to talk to her… just once. Maybe the sound of my voice can wake her up, maybe I can do something to help… maybe, maybe.

I slip out of bed, and put on some shoes and a shirt, padding down the hallway softly. I don't really remember where the compound hospital is; I just let my feet guide me since they know where they are going.

Soon, somehow, I get there. A guard sits at the door with a gun slung across his body. When he sees me, his expression softens, probably because I look so pitiful right now.

"I… need to visit my friend. Uh… Uriah Pedrad," I say. I realize that I need to visit him. He's in intensive care too; maybe I can see Tris while I visit him.

He nods. "Go right in, son." It strikes me that these people are half dazed right now; their memories were removed yesterday, and whatever Cara and the others told them must be just settling down in their heads. I think back to Peter; everyone must have acted that way.

I walk in, and the bright white light half blinds me. I look around, adjusting, and then walk up to the lady at the counter, who is basically just slumped there staring into the distance.

"Uh… hello?" I say, standing over her.

She snaps back to life in a very… well, surreal way. "Yes, may I help you?"

"Um. I need to visit Uriah Pedrad. He's in intensive care, right?"

She scans her papers. "Yes. ICU 4 is where you'll find him." She winks at me, and it fills me with painful disgust. I walk away quickly, down the hallway.

When I find the ICUs, I slow down until I find the fourth one. _I hope Tris is in here,_ I think. I open the door and walk in.

Instantly, I'm plagued with grief once again, because right in front of me, on adjacent beds, lay Uriah and Tris. The results of my stupidity. The two people I care about most, and they are probably going to die because of me.

Tris is hooked up to hlaf a dozen machines. There is an IV, an ECG, and a couple of others I don't recognize. She looks terrible… her hair is a rat's nest, and there is a huge bandage over her right eye, but she's there. Tris. My Tris. She's here, she's alive for now, _she could live._

I walk over unsteadily, not trusting my knees to hold up, and sit on her bed. I take her hand in mine. She is so small, so fragile, like she could break any minute. And now she has. I can only hope she can be put together again.

A sob escapes me as I stare at her face. She's not moving, not doing anything. Just… there.

I lean over and plant a small kiss on her lips.

"I'm so sorry, Tris," I whisper as I break away, my face inches from hers. "This is my fault. I'm so sorry. I love you, Beatrice Prior. Come back to me." By the end of this, I'm full out crying.

I have to stay with her. I can't leave, now, with her like this. I pull up a chair right next to her bed and settle down. I smoothe her hair out with my hand as I keep hers in my other hand.

For the rest of the night, I sit there, willing my love to wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been two weeks. Two weeks since Tris was wounded. Two weeks since I lost every sort of compassion or feelings or opinion.

I've been sitting by her bed for about nine tenths of that time, leaving only for the occasional bathroom break. They can't even stop me from sitting next to her anymore. They even gave me the bed next to Tris. The nurses all look at me like I'm crazy, and I look it, so I can't blame them. I'm pale and gaunt. My eyes are bloodshot. I have the scraggly beard of someone who hasn't shaved in a long while, and my hair has formed a permanent rat's nest.

Not that I care. Christina shows up every once and a while to see if I'm eating, but she can't make me. She still tries, though. I can tell she's trying to forgive and forget. It's not working well. But she still comes around to try and make me take a shower, or eat, or do _anything_. She babies me so much now that I continuously question my memories of being her instructor once.

Tris is in a bad way. The doctors used to try and give me hopeful updates in the first week, but they've stopped. But I can gather that her condition is not good. Her left leg has been paralyzed from knee down, and will either have to be amputated or receive serious, painful physiotherapy. It won't be fun, and it'll require four surgeries for it to be even close to normal again, since a stray bullet completely shattered her left tibia.

The medicines the doctors administered via IV managed to shrink the tumors in her lungs, but they're still there. Still growing. I can't bear it. My grandmother had cancer and I would never want to see Tris going through such pain.

The only good thing is that her survival chance has gone up to thirty six percent. Her brain waves are fully functional, and her stomach wound has slowly begun to show signs of healing.

They're all just waiting for her to wake up. That's the problem. _She just won't wake up._

They've tried everything… even injecting her with energy supplements to try and jolt her. But she simply refuses to wake up. They say she's trying to recuperate from the harmful effects of the Death Serum. I say that she's just trying not to come back to this world; this world where pain and hurt runs rampage and it's impossible to find a safe haven.

Caleb arrives one day, disheveled, with the wild look in his eyes which is by all means haunted. He just comes in and sits down next to her, on the seat where I usually do, and holds her hand. He sits like this for hours, and I just stare at him the whole time, trying to sort out my feelings. He was the one who nearly delivered Tris to her death the first time, in Erudite headquarters, and now he has, in some way, done it again. I feel a great anger rise in me, and I have to suppress the urge to punch his teeth out.

When he leaves, he just glances at me and then turns away. "When she took the backpack, she told me to tell you that if she doesn't make it back… she didn't want to leave you."

I speak for the first time in three days. "Yeah. So why did she run off and leave an asshole like you to the living? You should have gone!" I growl loudly, my fists clenched.

"I tried! But she threatened to shoot me in the leg. She would have gone anyway, Tobias, even if I'd resisted."

"I don't care! You could have tried to stop her! Done anything! You know you owe her with your life thrice over now, don't you?" I move closer, pulling my fists up.

"I know. Trust me, I know." Tears start to drip down his face. "She was my sister. I loved her. And I betrayed her. She couldn't even stand me anymore; that killed me inside, and I never had a chance to make it up to her. I would have willingly died for her. I don't know why I didn't have the courage to." With that, he stands up and walks out of the room.

I sit down and press a pillow to my face. The linen is cold; it helps push back the tears forming around the corners of my eyes. I know that if I cry now, all the emotion, all of it will start to leak out. It will never stop.

After a while, I stand up and walk over to Tris' bed. Pulling up the covers, I lie there next to her, making sure I don't move her or dislodge anything. I just lie there for a long while, and then turn and give her a kiss on her cold lips. I'm just hoping for a response. I'm hoping she will wrap her arms around me and kiss me back with all the ferocity that is Tris.

It doesn't happen. I sigh and turn away from her.

I'm drifting off to sleep when I hear a sharp intake of breath next to me and a small croaky voice breathe out, "…Tobias..?"

I sit up with a jolt and look to my side at Tris. She is looking at me with sleep-filled blue eyes. I stare, not believing my eyes. "Tris?"

She blinks at me. "What happened? Everything…" she winces, "...hurts." She moves about a bit, and then frowns. "I can't move my left leg at all."

I stare at her, not digesting what she's saying. "Why are you awake _now_?"

"Was I out long?" She asks, stretching her arms over her head. The action nearly dislodges an IV. She winces. "My chest is _killing me._"

Alarmed, I position her pillows so she's propped upright somewhat. "Two weeks, Tris. That's how long."

She looks at me like I'm crazy. "Are you sure…? Can you, uh… can you call a doctor?"

"Yeah." I walk towards the door, and somewhere between Tris' bed and the door, I probably fall over or something, because the next thing I feel is the cushiony darkness of unconsciousness.


End file.
